


Less Talking, More Ravishing

by Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold (manka)



Series: 2020 Charity Fundraiser One-Shots for RAINN [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Confident Cullen Rutherford, Dom Cullen Rutherford, Established Relationship, F/M, Flirting, Highwayman AU, Implied Sexual Content, Kinky Cullen Rutherford, Kissing, Robbery, Romantic Gestures, Sexual Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:14:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26344678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manka/pseuds/Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold
Summary: Evelyn Trevelyen is waylaid by a handsome highwayman.Which isexactlywhat she wanted for her anniversary.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford
Series: 2020 Charity Fundraiser One-Shots for RAINN [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1913077
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	Less Talking, More Ravishing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kemvee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kemvee/gifts).



> This is part of my Charity Fundraiser! All of the proceeds go to RAINN.org to help survivors of sexual violence. Thank you Kemvee for letting me play with your Highwayman AU and your Cullen/Evelyn!

The carriage door slams open. 

Evelyn’s heart threatens to pound right out of her chest. She can feel her delicate fingers shaking where they clutch the smooth, cool silk of her second-best traveling gown. 

Green silk. Her mother always said emerald brought out the same shade in her eyes. 

She hardly dares breathe in the split second between when the carriage door opens and she catches sight of their attacker. But it isn’t a face or even a strong arm she sees first. 

It’s a long, thin, _dangerous_ blade leveled at her defenseless throat. 

Evelyn whimpers and closes her eyes, sure that she is about to meet her untimely end at the end of its steel point. 

She wonders what outrageous fashions people will wear to her funeral. 

Even over her panic and the thudding heartbeat in her throat, she hears the whisper of metal being slid back into leather. Feels the absence of the blade. She wants to open her eyes and check, but she’s almost as frightened by the absence of the weapon as the weapon itself. 

“My lady.” A pleasant voice rings through the carriage, one that’s got the gentlest burr of Ferelden behind it. “Don’t be alarmed.”

Don’t be alarmed? Don’t be _alarmed_ by the brigand forcing his way into her coach to rob her at best, harm her at worst? Her eyes fly open, indignant. For a second she channels her former nanny, a woman with a spine of iron who would likely box this thief’s ears for the _audacity_. 

But the moment she catches sight of the man who has stalled her coach with the clear intention of robbing her blind, her breath catches. 

Thieves and brigands should not be allowed to be so handsome. It is _unfair_. 

His golden hair sits in careful waves beneath the rakish tilt of his stylish hat. He climbs in and settles himself on the bench across from her. A mask obscures his face, with two notable exceptions.

The first, the warm honey color of his eyes. They sparkle with delight when he rakes them them down her figure as if appreciating a fine work of art. 

The second, his full lips and the scar that slices through them. They curl into an amused smile while he settles himself as if she’d invited him to share a pleasant afternoon ride with her 

“Allow me to apologize.” He starts. “I didn't mean to offend such a delicate creature.” 

Delicate she may be, but she once threw a glass at a handsy Comte without batting an eye. She draws herself up like an offended grand dame, preparing to lecture him on the evils of his chosen lifestyle. 

“If I’d have known I’d find a vision such as yourself, I’d have entered much more gently. You are worth more than all the money and jewels in your luggage.” 

He pauses. His lips twitch. “And there is an extravagant amount of luggage.” 

She laughs. She didn’t _want_ to. She certainly didn’t mean to. 

“It’ll take me forever to go through it all for valuables.”

There’s a hint of danger in his eyes again. Her own drop to his blade, but before she can properly panic, his leather clad fingers are on her chin. He tips her face back up to hold her gaze. 

She can feel herself growing faint under his intensity as he strokes a line over her jaw.

“But why go through all of it when I can just take you?” 

Swooning. This was where a proper woman _should_ faint dead away but she…

Well. Judging by the thrill racing down her spine, perhaps she was not _quite_ proper. 

“Take me where?” 

Her voice comes out a squeak that makes him chuckle. He thrusts his hand into the space between them, every inch a gentleman. She stares at the proffered appendage, suspicious, before gingerly placing her own into his grasp. 

That turns out to be a mistake. 

He wrenches her across the coach and into his lap. She squeals, but her protests die on her lips when he presses his mouth to hers. He captures her pleas and her heart races like a galloping horse. She can feel the solidness of him against her. 

She fears she _likes_ it. 

He pulls just a hair's breadth away, whispering against her skin. 

“Is this _truly_ what you wanted for our anniversary, Evelyn?” 

She almost melts into her husband’s embrace, but affects a stern look. “Less talking, more ravishing.” 

He chuckles. “As you wish.” 

He silences her own mirth with another kiss, one that leaves her breathless, before hoisting her solidly into his arms.

“Now, to accomplish the Lion of Ferelden’s greatest feat. The theft of _your_ virtue.” 


End file.
